A World of Demons
by GuyWithAHelmet
Summary: John Mandrake is dead. Nouda rules the earth, with demons running rampant. A group of survivors tries to make it in a decimated London, where an unfortunate supply runner begins his adventure.


Did you know that having a fireball thrown at you is not fun?

Of course you would know that from common sense, but there's still the fact that you have (probably) never experienced it firsthand.

Well, that was the experience I was going through RIGHT ABOUT NOW.

Okay, brief internal rant over.

A snarling trio of demons (two imps and a foliot, to be precise) was hurling bolts of potentially lethal magic at me whilst I dodged, rolled, and made feeble attempts at counterattacks. I cursed loudly as a Detonation streaked past my face and destroyed the gray plaster wall of the run-down building we were in. The canned goods in my knapsack rattled loudly as I dove to the side, avoiding a violently spewed Pestilence, courtesy of the foliot.

Goddamn. This was just supposed to be a supply run! Go out, gather essentials, come back. Nothing to it. But NOOOOOO, someone up there just LOVES messing with me.

Time for a short flashback to the events that led to this mess.

"Darris. You've been assigned supply duty," Kitty said shortly as she walked past me in the hallway, carrying a bundle of papers under her arm.

I blinked. Well, that came out of the blue.

"Say what?" I asked, making sure my voice sounded clueless as possible. Kitty didn't give you details unless you pressed for them, but asking the wrong question usually led to an uppercut to the chin. Hence, my subtly roundabout approach.

Kitty sighed and used her free hand to pull out a map from the bundle of official-looking documents she was holding. As I took the map from her, she tapped a tiny symbol on the yellowed paper. "That warehouse, there. It hasn't been searched yet. It was a food storage building, and we're low on things to eat. Our scouts say that there isn't much demon activity there. Get back by eight."

See, Kitty only gave you the stuff you absolutely needed to know. You were expected to figure out the rest on your own. I would argue for more information, but you didn't really argue with Kitty Jones. She ran the place, and besides,I respected her.

A recap of the current world situation would be helpful.

Nouda had entered the world in the body of Quentin Makepiece, bringing countless demons with him. John Mandrake, the Minister of Internal Affairs, took up the staff of the famous Gladstone and unleashed the energy stored within it in an attempt to slay the massive demon...

But the attempt failed. Mandrake fell, and Nouda tore his way free of the wreckage of steel and glass that Mandrake had collapsed on him- injured severely, but not killed. After devouring everything he could see and regaining his strength, Nouda slaughtered almost all of the government officials and a good chunk of the "commoner" population. He then used a small group of traitor magicians to open a permanent portal to the Other Place and unleash a limitless number of demons upon the world, throwing it into chaos. One by one, countries fell to the horde, with Nouda as their king. All that was left were small pockets of resistance, like us.

We used to be the Resistance, a small band of magic-resistant renegades who opposed the government, but when Nouda took over, it became a hodgepodge mixture of commoners and magicians alike, trying to survive in this new world. Kitty... She changed too. She used to be friendly and kind to those she liked, but fiercely determined when fighting against the government and sarcastically witty in everyday conversation. After Mandrake died... She wasn't the same. She became bitter and violent, but she was still an excellent leader, so people looked to her to keep us does a great job, but she still hasn't recovered from losing Mandrake.

So faced with the task she had given me, I said, "Got it. On my way."

So now you may be thinking, "You can still summon demons, right? Why don't you just send them?" Well, the reason is that given the chance, every demon we had would stab us in the back. We can tell them what to do, but there's always the chance one of them would get faulty instructions and inform the "wild" demons where we were. As such, they always have a human supervisor with them, if the demon is sent at all.

Yeah, the demons don't know where we are. We use tunnels, specially designated drop-off points, magically cloaked areas... The whole nine yards.

So, I did have a foliot with me (a surly guy named Hibbs) but, at the beginning of the fight, he'd been hit by a Detonation straight off the bat and now the only evidence that he ever existed was a smear of essence spattered on the wall. Go figure.

So, back to the action.

The foliot (who had taken the form of a hideously oversized grasshopper thing) buzzed his wings angrily as he barfed forth a Detonation from his mandibles. The spell struck me straight on the chest, only to splash harmlessly on a coat of silver chain mail I was wearing under my street clothes. However, the spell still threw off my feet (and burned my shirt off, the bastard) and one of the imps (who resembled a leprechaun if leprechauns constantly smeared themselves in leper feces) let out a triumphant giggle and leapt forward, claws splayed.

Bad idea.

I reached a hand into the knapsack on my back and pulled out a metal plated rowan wood club. The rowan wood, on its own, would have been an effective deterrent, as demons found rowan wood rather nasty. However, the steel-silver alloy the club was plated in was far more potent. While the metal wasn't _quite _as effective as pure silver, it was far more durable and kept an edge better (though the club didn't need an edge to be an effective weapon). And I must mention the silver razor wire wrapped tightly in the premade grooves placed in the club's head.

Oh yes, and I called my club Billy. Like the billy from "billy club". It made me feel warm and fuzzy inside.

So, as the imp sailed towards me, giggling crazily and intent on rearranging my facial features, I swung the club as hard as I could with the arm holding it. The club sent a vibration down my arm as it smashed into the imp_, _and the demonic leprechaun flew into the wall with an unpleasant _splat, _now sporting a concaved skull covered in tiny gashes from the razor wire. He promptly dissolved into essence.

See, while my club might not do much to afrits or anything stronger, it was more than capable of pasting imps, foliots, and even djinn if I was lucky.

The other imp (who was this... _thing _covered in suckers with two beady eyes peeping out), looking taken aback, bumped into the foliot, where his suckers promptly fastened him to the grotesque insect. The grasshopper thrashed wildly to free himself from his companion, who was flailing two stubby, three-fingered arms from the forest of suckers covering its body.

Perfect.

I leapt to my feet, pulling out a can of silver-colored spray paint which was- surprise!- silver-based. Shaking the can furiously, I sprinted through the few meters seperating me and the struggling demons and let loose with the spray can.

I gave the grasshopper a nice splotch of silver on the side of his spiny abdomen, which promptly began smoking and bubbling. The foliot let out the most god-awful screech and, finally tearing off the hapless imp, bounded wildly into the wall with a _crunch_. He kicked feebly for a few seconds before finally laying still and slowly melting into essence with the silver paint on him still fizzing.

The imp, knowing the jig was up, waddled furiously to the open door I had come in through, flinging Detonations over his sucker-covered shoulder. The Detonations were wildly inaccurate, however, and I easily caught up and smashed him into the ground with my club. Now in the approximate shape of a rather-torn up pancake, he started melting into essence with a feeble gurgling noise.

Panting heavily, I checked my watch- and cursed. It was seven forty-five. I had twenty minutes to base before the guard djinn were told to kill everything they saw. Hurrying through the doorway the imp had been trying to escape through, I practically sprinted down the stairs it led to and burst through the door at the bottom. Stumbling onto the street, I saw another human,a guy called Hamen- he was supposed to guard the entrance to one of the portals that led to headquarters. I didn't really know him all that well.

"What are you doing here?" I panted.

He frowned. "Looking for you, of course."

That made me pause. "Why?"

Hamen looked expressionless. "Because you're supposed to be back at camp. Let's go."

Okay...? I didn't know how he knew I was here, but then maybe he had remembered me going off on the supply run and realized that I hadn't returned yet. Huh. He must have a good memory. I shrugged. "Okay. Lead the way to the portal, then."

"You lead." Hamen replied.

What? "Why?" I asked.

"I... forgot the way back." He said expressionlessly.

I gave him a close look. Nothing looked out of the ordinary. He had a mild expression of sheepishness on his face like you would expect from someone who was mildly embarrassed. "Alright." I replied neutrally.I turned around and walked a few steps- then whirled and took a two-handed swing at Hamen's head.

The thing that looked like Hamen ducked with impossible speed, then extended his hand. A jet of light shot out of it and slammed into my already-charred shirt- and the silver mail underneath. I grunted as the air was knocked out of my lungs, and I flew back a few feet, skidding onto my back.

As I unsteadily got back to my feet, Hamen just- changed. First it was Hamen, and then it was an inhumanly beautiful goat-legged woman with rams horns and massive, flourishy bat wings.

"You're too smart for your own good, you know that?" She purred seductively. A flaming whip suddenly sprouted from the palm of her hand, and she idly flicked it to the side. "A shame. I was looking forward to finding out where your base was, but I suppose I'll just have to trick some other fool to do that."

"What are you?" I demanded, club held ready. "An afrit? A djinn?"

The demon chuckled. I don't know how she made goat legs, ram horns,and bat wings look sexy, but she did. "Greedy, aren't you? Well, I'm a djinn, little human."

Okay, a djinn. That means I have a fighting chance. But the djinn noticed my suddenly hopeful expression and gave another little chuckle. "Oh, I'm not fighting you- _he _is." She flicked her delicate finger off to the side, and as I looked the concrete sidewalk I was looking at-

Exploded. The sidewalk burst outwards with the sound of crumbling rock and bending rebar. A massive, scaly hand thrust itself from the newly made hole and smashed into the ground, the clawed fingers digging INTO the stone. Another hand followed, then a gigantic, crocodilian head popped out of the hole. The cold, reptilian eyes fixed-

-on me.

Goddammit.

The sultry djinn let out a soft laugh. "Have fun. Afrits do have a large appetite," she smirked. Then, flaring her wings, she shot into the air and flew over a rooftop, hiding her from my sight.

What a bitch.

I turned my attention back to the massive reptilian demon, who had pulled himself free from the hole. His tail whipped from side to side as he hissed at me, flexing his claws as he prepared to tear me to pieces.

I sighed.

Go figure.


End file.
